


The Gambler

by Liviapenn



Category: Roswell (TV)
Genre: Episode: s01e15 Viva Las Vegas, Horny Teenagers, Las Vegas, Light Angst, M/M, Secret Relationship, Teenage Dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-11-02
Updated: 2001-11-02
Packaged: 2017-10-03 04:03:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liviapenn/pseuds/Liviapenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex and Kyle gamble on each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gambler

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place during &amp; after "Viva Las Vegas." Thanks to Laura Shapiro for reading this story and giving advice, though it wasn't even her fandom.

"Okay, okay, let's have some order here," Maria said, lifting her carton of milk and shaking it up. So it wasn't quite as refined as tapping a fork on a glass, but the sloshing got everyone's attention just as effectively. "Today's topic for the unofficial auxiliary debate team is Crime and Punishment. What's the damage, people?" Everyone at the cafeteria table, which was basically everyone who'd been on the Vegas trip, muttered and mumbled more or less intelligibly, but Maria waved her hands to quiet the table, then pointed at me. "Alex, you start."

"Well, I got grounded for a week." I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "Oh, and my own personalized version of the 'Very Disappointed' speech. It was kind of nostalgic actually. I haven't heard that one since my sister moved out."

"Same." Liz looked guiltily up at all of us. "I think I freaked my parents out... They're not used to punishing me."

"I got a week too." Tess shrugged and glanced at Michael. Everyone at the table knew he hadn't been punished at all, because he didn't have anyone to punish him. Which was probably why the trip had been his idea in the first place.

There was a pause while everyone glared at him. Absorbed in his cheeseburger, Michael took a moment to notice. Finally he looked up, eyebrows raised. "What?" he mumbled, and then swallowed, gesturing with his cheeseburger. "Hey. I'd like everybody to just keep one thing in mind."

"Yeah, and what's that, Emancipated Boy?" Maria raised an eyebrow, expectant.

"I didn't invite _any_ of you." Michael said bluntly, and went back to his cheeseburger.

Maria sighed. "The man has a point. Evanses?"

Max and Isabel exchanged glances. "We're both grounded for two weeks." Max muttered. "No allowance for two weeks, and since I'm going to have so much free time..."

He flicked a glance at Isabel, who rolled her eyes. "Max gets an extra session of therapy this week and next."

"Ouch." said Kyle, laughing. Isabel glared at him, but even Maria couldn't help but smile.

"So, uh, what kind of stuff do you _tell_ that guy, anyway?" she asked, leaning across the table. "I mean, you can't... do you just make up crazy stuff or what? 'Cause I don't know about you, but that would make _me_ feel a lot better."

"I..." Max looked down, but you could still see his mouth twisting in mild amusement. "I don't really talk much." He couldn't help but finally laugh. "I don't know. What kind of things should I tell him?"

"Tell him you want to be a fireman because you really, really like fire." Kyle suggested, then waved a hand. "No, no. Tell him you sniff paint thinner to escape the crushing ennui of small-town life."

"Oh, you know what," Maria said, "you should tell him that when you look in the mirror, you just see yourself as really, really fat, so now you only eat celery."

"You guys!" Liz jerked with laughter, then tried to look stern. "None of those things are funny!"

"Just tell him you're gay." Michael mumbled.

"I should _tell_ him my best friend's an idiot and a bad influence," Max said, not putting a lot of effort into looking serious.

Michael shrugged and went back to his cheeseburger.

"Hm. Well," Maria said, leaning back in her chair. "I think I win the sweepstakes here with one _month_ of grounding. Two weeks without phone privileges. And the Jetta's suspended till further notice, for everything except work." She hung her head like a condemned prisoner, and heaved a heavy sigh.

"I don't know about that," Kyle said, peeling the plastic wrap off his meatloaf sandwich. "I only got two weeks house arrest, but that's with no allowance, no phone, and Cindy from the attendance office is on alert to call my dad if I'm so much as tardy to class. Same with my teachers if I even pass a _note_." He smiled, adding brightly, "It's full lockdown. But, hell, it was worth it, wasn't it? I mean, come on." he protested. "Wasn't it?"

He was looking straight at me.

* * *

Vegas was beautiful at night. A galaxy of glittering lights dazzled above our heads on both sides of the Strip as we spilled out of the supper club, laughing. We could've taken a cab back to the Bali Hai, but the girls wanted to walk. I didn't mind; truth be told, I wasn't in any hurry to get back to the casino. Apparently gambling wasn't my forte. So I hooked my arm through Isabel's, and we set out on our way. I was a little awed by all the movement on the street. Roswell usually shut down around eight o'clock, but here in Vegas, even at two in the morning, the street was crowded with people out for a good time. The party wasn't even slowing down.

Well, unless you were Max and Liz. They'd been quiet ever since they'd shared a dance back at the club, and they were the only couple that hadn't linked arms as we all left. If you didn't know them, you might not even think they were walking together. But as they drifted ahead of us, moving through the crowd, no matter how distant they got, they still kept pace with each other.

I wondered about Liz sometimes. It didn't bother me that much when Isabel wanted to be my friend, because we'd never really been involved. But it had to be hard for Max. He couldn't avoid seeing her around. He needed her when it came to dealing with things like those blue alien crystals-- Liz the Whiz. I'd thought that was all they had left. But then she'd come on this trip and even danced with Max at the club, so maybe there was something going on I didn't know about.

No, I told myself, it was probably nothing. After all, Kyle and Tess had danced, and they weren't involved, and I'd taken Isabel for a spin around the floor, but we weren't dating either. It was actually pretty ironic. Eight healthy, hormonal, unsupervised teenagers in Sin City... and only Maria and Michael were getting any action.

The way they were going at it, though, they were almost making up for the rest of us. Looking back, I caught a glimpse of them, lagging half a block behind. Maria's hand was clutching Michael's lapel, dragging him down for a kiss. They were half lost in shadow, half gleaming in the streetlight, like an old-fashioned movie poster, a classic romance. I'd always kind of had doubts about Michael, but every now and then he did something very right. Like not punching me in the face that time I hit him, for one. But tonight he'd outdone himself. I'd been hearing about Maria's Vegas dream for years now, and I'd probably be hearing about the reality for a lot of years to come.

I stole another glance over my shoulder, at Michael's large hand locked around Maria's arm. God, I was jealous of her. Not that I wanted Michael or anything... but just to have someone. Someone who would make all your dreams come true. Literally. God.

At that moment Kyle bumped into Isabel, sending her crashing against me. Still looking back, I didn't see it coming, and we almost toppled over. "Hey!"

"Sorry," Kyle offered, tugging playfully at Tess's arm. She was dragging her feet and giggling. "Come on, my little Pina Colada," Kyle said, pulling Tess by the wrists. "Pick up the pace. I wanna hit the tables. I'm th--"

"Thirteen hundred dollars ahead, we all _know_." Tess planted her feet in the middle of the sidewalk, refusing to be moved. People dodged around them, but they ignored any annoyed glances, snickering as they tried to move each other. "Honestly! Why not quit while you're ahead?"

"You don't understand. I'm on a roll. I'm hot tonight, baby!" Kyle crouched and swept his arms forward like he was going to tackle Tess, and she shrieked and jumped back, allowing Kyle to wrap his arm around her waist and haul her along again-- both laughing so hard they had to clutch each other to keep upright.

Isabel and I shared an amused glance. Without a word, we both agreed that _we_ would be the classy, dignified ones. Isabel looked like a goddess in her low-cut black dress, and Maria had picked me out a glossy, dark red suede jacket with matching shirt and tie, so I didn't look half bad either. Together we were the perfect picture of a high roller and his lady out for a stroll.

As Tess and Kyle's laughter subsided into occasional giggles, I craned my head around and inquired, "You're going back to the Bali Hai to gamble? What about the casino policy-- you know, Gamblers Anonymous?"

Kyle shrugged. "It's been a couple hours, there's gotta be a new dealer. You know," he said, turning around and glaring at Maria, who'd almost caught up to us. "One who doesn't think I have a _problem_."

Maria just grinned. She was obviously too thrilled about her Vegas debut to really snark back, so Michael did it for her. "Kyle, everyone knows you've got a problem, and it's not gambling."

I winced a little, and Isabel pursed her lips, worried. But Kyle only cocked his head and smiled a little.

Tess suddenly jerked away, out of his arms. "Oh my god, Isabel, look."

"Oooooh." Isabel pulled away from me, joining Tess in a mini-huddle, staring into the window of a little 24-hour pawnshop with an assortment of jewelry in a case just inside the front windows. It was as classy as a 24-hour pawnshop could probably ever be.

"I've still got some money to burn," Tess said.

"Well, Michael _said_ we had to spend it all..." Isabel grinned back, and they ducked inside.

"We'll just wait out here!" I called after them. The bell on the door jingled as it slammed shut.

"Women," Kyle said shortly, leaning back against the window, and I laughed. "No, I'm serious. Look at Tess. She could make a diamond ring out of a rock if she wanted to, but she still loves the shopping..."

"Yeah, and you can buy fish filets at the supermarket, but you still go down to the river every spring, don't you?" I said, staring across the street.

Kyle shrugged, acknowledging my point. As Michael and Maria passed us on the sidewalk, I could hear Maria singing quietly to herself, and it made me smile.

"Hey. Hotel buffet at ten. We're all meeting for breakfast," Michael said, pointing at both of us. "Tell the girls, okay?"

"Right on," I said, and they kept walking. Kyle sighed, leaning back and looking up at the sky. I followed his gaze. The illuminated billboards and long chains of colored bulbs soared stories high, and beyond that, the sky was black and nearly starless.

"It's kinda sad that there's a pawnshop right here that's doing so well, isn't it?" I said after a while. "I mean, nobody comes to Vegas thinking, okay, I got a hundred bucks, and when that runs out, I'll hock my wedding ring and sell my shoes, do they?"

Kyle just shrugged, and I shut up, going back to star-gazing. Or lack-of-star-gazing, actually. Occasionally, I stole a curious glance at Kyle. After all, if I wanted to know what was going on with Max and Liz, he might be the person to ask. Those rumors that had gone around a few months ago, about Liz having slept with Kyle... well, I just couldn't believe it. Neither could Maria. But Liz never denied it. Sometimes I wondered if she had started those rumors to push Max away, but I just didn't think Liz was devious enough for that. Besides, it obviously hadn't worked. She'd hurt Max, and maybe put him off for a while, but he still loved her. Anyone could see that.

"I've got this song that I sing, I can make the rain go... any time I move my finger..." I didn't even realize I was singing under my breath until Kyle leaned over and pushed at my shoulder with his own, both eyebrows raised. "Oh, sorry. Maria's song. I guess it got stuck in my head."

"Well, I'm not the expert on show tunes that you apparently are," Kyle drawled, "but that wasn't the song Maria sang tonight, was it?"

"No, no, this was a different one," I said, and laughed despite myself. "Okay, remember when I went to that audition with her, earlier?"

"Yeah, I remember. You'd just lost three thousand dollars." Kyle grinned.

"Uh-huh. Thanks for reminding me," I said, clutching at my heart. "So, as it turned out, it wasn't exactly the job she thought it was going to be..."

"Oh, Jesus," Kyle laughed as I told him the story of how Maria had auditioned to be a stripper-- including every sordid detail. "BYOG-string? That's so rich."

"Hey, I made three grand for playing one song," I said. "That's all I need to make it a happy story."

Kyle blinked at me. "You still have all that cash?"

"Well, I gave some back to Maria for these clothes... and I chipped in on the bail too, remember?"

"Hm, yeah."

"And then I lost some at blackjack," I mumbled, and Kyle laughed at me.

"Free advice, Whitman. Blackjack... maybe not your game."

"Yeah, well," I said. "When it comes to wacky alien adventures, it's still better than being trapped in a cave."

"I would tend to agree with that statement," he said sarcastically. And then he frowned, and scooted a little closer to me, and added, "Look, about that show tunes comment... I didn't mean anything."

"What?" I glanced over at Kyle. He looked surprisingly earnest, which was... odd. Honestly, I hadn't even given it a second thought. I was a band geek. I hung around with girls. Getting shoved into lockers and nicknamed 'Alice' was just the usual hassle. "Oh. Right. Well, that's... that's okay."

"It's just that I'm in this frustrating space right now," Kyle said, shaping out a square with his hands. "Where I realize I'm in a box. You know, preconcieved notions, conventional wisdom. And I can see _out_ of the box, I have these intense moments of clarity where I realize that I have a dizzying array of limitless potentialities stretching out in all directions..."

"Yeah?"

He shrugged. "And then I get out of bed and put my pants on and I'm just Kyle."

I grinned at the casino across the street. "No you're not."

"No?"

"No, you're Harvey Wallbanger, remember?"

"Hey, yeah." Kyle laughed. Turning around, he framed a spot on the window with his hands and peered inside. "You know they are never coming out of there," he said, and banged on the glass a little with the heel of his hand. I looked inside too. Tess was holding a necklace dripping with what looked like diamonds up to her throat, and she shooed Kyle off, looking annoyed, just as Isabel popped into sight, wrapped in a fluffy black fur coat.

Kyle burst out laughing as they both preened in the the mirror. "Look, Cruella de Isabel."

"Hey now," I said. "That's the hopeless unrequited love of my life you're talking about."

"Still? What about that Dutch girl? Your little Swiss Miss." Kyle elbowed me a little and I ducked away, laughing nervously, before he could get me in a headlock or perform some other type of jock bonding ritual.

"Swedish, she was _Swedish_, thank you." I proclaimed. "And, you know, that was just... a summer thing..."

Kyle wasn't paying attention. Pushing the door open and sticking his head inside the pawnshop, he raised his voice to tell Tess and Isabel, "Bali Hai at ten o'clock. Breakfast buffet, be there or be square. So says Doctor Love. Come on," he said, ducking back out onto the sidewalk. "Let's go."

"You don't think..." I began, then shook my head. "Forget it."

"What?"

"Well, I guess Isabel and Tess can take care of themselves."

"I guess." Kyle snorted as we walked. He looked good in his dark jacket, faded gray shirt and blue tie. "Let's just say I wouldn't want to be the guy who tries something with one of them."

"So you never have?" I said, and Kyle flashed wide eyes at me.

"What, with Tess? Nah. She's like... a cousin, you know. The gorgeous, luscious cousin you only see once a year at the family reunion." He shook his head. "But she's still your _cousin_, so it's kind of..."

"Gross?"

He shrugged. I guess his attitude had changed since Isabel's birthday. It was nice that he considered Tess family. In a more or less twisted way. It was sort of sweet.

"Wonder where you go in Vegas to find a prostitute?" Kyle wondered.

"God, Kyle!" I said shocked, and he laughed.

"Man, I'm just kidding. Seriously though, let's go in here," he said, grabbing my arm and dragging me towards the brightly lit entrance of another colorful casino-- 'The Morgana' was spelled out above the doors in a splash of pink neon. "Harvey Wallbanger's feelin' lucky tonight."

Kyle had good taste, I had to admit. The Morgana's lobby was fantastic. There were huge trees in planters, fake vines snaking along the walls in exotic patterns, and bright tropical flowers blooming everywhere. Kyle snagged a free Coke from a cocktail waitress in a frilly sarong and headed straight for the blackjack tables. I asked for a glass of water, and parked myself by the slot machines, feeding them quarters just to hear them play music at me. After about ten minutes that got old, and needless to say I wasn't making any money, so I gave up and wandered around the casino for while.

Out behind the slot machines, there was a doorway leading out to a huge, lush garden area with a pool for the guests who were staying in the hotel above the casino. Artificial waterfalls filled the air with soft rushing white noise, and I drifted out, into the warm, peaceful night. I sighed, relaxing a little as I realized that I was actually alone in a quiet place for the first time all day. And it had been one long day.

Farther into the garden, I found a carved stone bench hidden behind a vine-laden trellis, and sat down. Leaning back, I closed my eyes and just breathed. Inside, it was overly air-conditioned and everything smelled like sweaty metal. Out here the night was soft and warm, filled with the perfume of tropical flowers and fresh grass.

I wondered what everyone else was doing. Maria had been talking earlier about finding a karaoke bar and performing a few encores. Max and Liz probably found someplace quiet to sit and avoid eye contact. Tess had told the story at dinner of her failed attempt to get into the casino, but maybe now with Isabel along instead of Liz "We are seventeen" Parker, she'd finally be able to get in and lose all her money playing pointless games just like the rest of us.

Except Kyle, of course.

Kyle was ahead of the game, thirteen hundred dollars and probably more by now. Seeing as how he hadn't spent any time this weekend in jail or the video arcade, that meant he was probably having the best time in Vegas of all of us. He even looked the part. The suit Maria had bought him, and the sleek way he'd combed his hair back for dinner-- it made him look like one of those guys in a James Bond movie. Maybe a little younger, but just as polished. Watching you, with that sharky smile and narrow eyes that took in more than they gave away...

"Damn it," I said out loud, not caring if anyone heard me. I opened my eyes, then squeezed them closed again. It didn't help.

I could still see Kyle.

I'd never told anyone in Roswell about my feelings, my _attraction_ to guys. For years I'd even tried to keep it a secret from myself. I kept my eyes to myself in the locker room, I joined in the other guys' assessments of who was a babe, who was hot. But I never felt comfortable faking it, and over the years it was just easier to hang out with Maria and Liz. They didn't expect me to be the macho guy, the manly man.

Then, almost a year and a half ago, I'd finally saved enough money to get my own computer. My parents trusted me; I'd never really given them any reason not to. They probably never even thought of telling me not to go to porn sites, or any other website with questionable content.

It took me weeks before I mustered up the courage to explore. I even remember the first phrase I typed into my favorite search engine: "gay teenager."

Gay.

I was gay.

Cyberspace was where I could escape after a long day of being a skinny band geek. I read voraciously about other guys' experiences, their problems and successes. Their lives. For the first time being gay didn't seem like an affliction. For the first time I could actually think the word "gay" to myself without a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I started being more assertive at school, more assertive with Liz and Maria. When I thought they were keeping secrets from me, I confronted them. I demanded to know the truth.

Maybe, secretly, I wanted them to confront me, too. Oh, I had a million excuses for not telling them myself. Like "it's not the right time." Or "they wouldn't understand." Or "I don't want _everyone_ to know." But those were just stupid excuses. I knew for a fact that Liz and Maria were trustworthy. If I needed a reminder, I only needed to remember how closely they'd guarded Max, Michael and Isabel's secret. Even from me.

I sighed, thinking of Isabel.

I liked her. I did. She was maybe the only person in Roswell as lonely as me, as hidden as me, as twisted up on the inside. But besides that, we had absolutely nothing in common. It didn't make a lot of sense, but I was still thrilled that a girl as gorgeous and popular as Isabel would want to spend time with me. Like maybe it meant I wasn't a total freak.

Never underestimate the power of denial. And loneliness, of course. Maria and Liz were in relationships, and I was tired of being on my own. But it didn't work out, of course, and we were going to be better off as friends. I hoped so, anyway.

"You _hate_ Vegas, don't you?"

I opened my eyes to see Kyle, leaning against the trellis, his drink held casually in one hand. His jacket fell away from his chest, revealing the slim lines of his body. I looked away, out into the gardens. God, I was in so much trouble.

"No, I love Vegas," I replied quickly. "It's the original city of glamor and romance. Joan Crawford was married in Vegas. And Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward." Oh, god, I was babbling. I knew I shouldn't have picked up all those stupid brochures. It was just-- Kyle. We'd sort of bonded, two weeks ago when we'd been trapped in that cave. I'd gotten over the fact that he was a jock. Now he was just Kyle. Which made me nervous in a whole new way.

"Not to mention the passionate union of Billy Bob Thornton and Angelina Jolie." Kyle said, sarcastic as ever. He sat down at the other end of the bench and tipped his head back, breathing deeply just as I had done.

"Angelina Jolie was married in Vegas?" Great. So we'd bonded. Did that mean I was going to have to spend time with Kyle on a regular basis? Or was he just hanging out with me because I was the only other human guy on the Vegas trip? I didn't know which possibility freaked me out more.

"Yeah, where were you? It's an official day that will live in infamy for all red-blooded American males," Kyle said distantly. Sliding down a little, he stretched his legs out across the path and crossed his ankles.

"I guess I didn't get the memo." I said.

We sat in silence for a while, listening to the waterfall. Close to drifting off, I watched the reflected light from the pool playing over Kyle's face in waves, glancing away whenever it looked like he was about to open his eyes.

"So," I finally said, "how'd you make out inside?"

"Made three hundred bucks," he said proudly, sitting up a little.

"I guess it is your lucky night."

He smiled, and shrugged. "Better than being trapped in a cave."

"Definitely."

"You know you're totally wrong about your statistics thing," he said, turning his head, and he smiled at me, almost fondly. Almost the same way he'd looked at Tess... but not quite. "You're in fast track math, aren't you?"

"What?" I said. No. It couldn't be. Kyle couldn't be hanging out with me because he wanted... No. He'd changed a lot over the past year, but I'd chalked that up to Max saving his life and the whole redneck Buddhism thing. "Well, yeah. So you'd think I'd be better at this."

"No, actually I think that's what's hanging you up. See, it's not about math," Kyle explained. His voice got a lot more like his dad's when he was tired, I noticed. Rusty and more drawling. "It's about instinct, being in tune with yourself. There's a flow in everything. Zen is about finding the flow, going with it."

I nodded, and then Kyle licked his lips thoughtfully. Leaning over, he caught my chin in his hand, a strange, urgent look in his eyes. I froze, wondering stupidly what I'd done to piss him off, and he pressed his mouth against mine, lips moving in a clumsy but unmistakable kiss. He backed off, and I sat still. He stood, folded his arms and stared down into the pool and muttering something to himself, and I watched him, my eyes wide and my heart pounding.

"I," I cleared my throat and tried again. "Kyle?"

"Are you mad?" he muttered, not looking back. "'Cause if you're pissed I wouldn't blame you. Really. I just--"

"Kyle, shut up!" He looked at me, startled, and I took his arm and pulled him to sit back down on the bench. "Why... you're not..." He looked away, refusing to meet my eyes, and I stopped, my heart pounding. "I mean, you're _not_, are you?"

"I don't know," he said, looking over my shoulder, then straight into my eyes. I knew the look on his face like I knew my own face in the mirror. He was scared as hell. "I suspected," he said scratchily. "For a while. I never let myself get close. To anyone. And then... when I almost died... it was like..." He took a breath, setting his jaw a little. "I always avoided you before, when I was going out with Liz. And I think I just figured out why."

"You were scared," I said. It was all starting to make sense now.

"Yes!" he said. "I thought people would... that they'd be able to see... But ever since that _fucking_ cave I can't get you out of my head. I don't care any more, Alex, I think... Jesus, I just want to... I want to _do_ things to you," he said, and his whole face went red.

I pushed him back against the trellis. Leaves rustled quietly in the breeze as I kissed him softly. He tasted sweet-and-sour, like some kind of liquor, and not the champagne we'd sipped during dinner. But the kiss was better this time, slow and soft. His hands trembled as they came up, under my jacket, to smooth the material of my shirt against my back.

"_You_ were wrong." I said. He smelled great, clean and masculine and just the littlest bit sweaty.

"I... about what?"

"This time an all-or-nothing gambit beat the odds." I laughed against his ear and he shuddered all over.

"It was a zen thing," he argued, and then pushed me back to look at me. I reached out to push his hair back off his forehead, and he grinned, half-embarrassed. "What... what about this, Alex? What kind of thing is this?"

"I like you." I said, and he nodded. "But I know it's hard. To change the way you look at yourself, think of yourself. I want, I mean, I'd like to do... whatever you're okay with doing."

"Okay." Kyle smiled, just a little, and lifted a hand to cup the back of my neck. His thumb moved, brushing the top of my spine. He grinned when I shivered and ducked my head. "You tell me. What's fun to do in Vegas?"

I took a deep breath. "Somewhere in this city... Maria's singing karaoke."

"What else?"

"The Mirage has an outdoor volcano display that actually erupts every fifteen minutes."

He nodded, moving his leg so that his knee touched mine, warm through the thin material of our dress slacks. "What else?"

"The Flamingo has... uh." I shivered. "Live... live flamingos."

Kyle stopped. "Oh, now you're just making stuff up."

"No, it's true." I pulled a few brochures out of my jacket pocket, shuffled through them and showed him. "See?"

"Live flamingos _and_ penguins." he read, eyebrows raised. "Huh." Then he took a deep breath and looked up at me. "We could do that. Or we could get a room." His voice was low, and his knee was touching mine again. "We could get a room right here."

I looked at him. I could still taste the sour tang of his mouth. "Kyle... okay. Just how drunk are you?"

"I had one rum and coke." he said flatly. "I'm not drunk." He put a hand next to my collar, fiddling with my tie a little. "This... this red is your color."

"Maria says I'm a winter."

"You're a good kisser," he said, smiling crookedly. "I want to..." He kissed me again. Harder this time. His hands slid up my sides, an almost arrogant touch, like he knew what he was doing to me. God, how had Liz ever said no to this guy?

Pulling away, I stood up and held out a hand. "Some money, uh, give me some money."

Kyle nodded, pulling a shiny money clip from his pocket. He shelled out a few hundred dollars and slipped the money into my palm. His hand was trembling slightly as it brushed against mine.

"Wait ten minutes." I said, transferring the money into my pocket. "Then go to the desk, ask for a room key." I smiled. "It'll be under Tom Collins."

I walked out of the garden, and didn't look back. As I pushed open the door to enter the casino again, the air conditioning spilled over me like a wave, making me shiver as I found myself back in the flashy, glaring, brightly lit world. It was like walking back into reality, coming out of a dream.

It had to be a dream. It was too crazy to be real. Kyle wanted me. It pounded in my brain as I checked into the Morgana, arranging with the clerk to hold a key in reserve. Kyle wanted me.

No, I thought to myself, riding up in the elevator. Maybe it was crazy, but it wasn't a dream. I could still feel his hand on the back of my neck, the warmth, the callus on his trigger finger from sharpshooting. It was real, it was happening to me, and I'd be a fool to walk away from it.

Kyle wanted me.

The room was small and chilly. There was a small closet near the door, and a queen-size bed with its head against the wall. I slipped off my suede jacket and hung it up, then shivered and crossed to the far wall, where I knelt between the wall and the bed to adjust the air conditioning. Then I pushed the heavy drapes aside to look out the window. I could half-see the gardens below, the blue glow of the lighted pool. I could see a hundred glossy windows in the hotel next door, some lit up, most not.

I wondered who was in those rooms. Families on vacation. Just-married couples. A bunch of kids on a crazy-ass vacation. Was there anyone else, at this very instant, looking out their window, wondering how the hell they'd gotten to this spot, in this place, at this time? Someone who hadn't planned to come to Vegas, hadn't even thought about it eight hours ago, and now they were here, about to spend the night with someone they never thought would look at them twice.

The electronic lock clicked and I started. I looked over my shoulder and watched Kyle, framed in the doorway. He closed the door, tossing his key card onto the dresser by the door.

"That wasn't ten minutes," I said, and suddenly I couldn't get enough air. I came away from the window and loosened my tie, trying to look casual.

"You're the one that's good at math." Kyle leaned back against the door and slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks, watching me in the dim light. "You know," he said, "I heard that if you're in a dangerous situation with another person, if you might die, you form an intense bond with them. Might even end up having sex. I mean, when you wouldn't normally."

I stopped, halfway done pulling my tie off.

"I don't think it's true, though," Kyle said. "I mean, if it were, I'd be here with Max Evans."

"Oh." I said, and finished pulling off my tie, dropping it on the dresser.

"Yeah." Kyle shrugged out of his jacket, hung it up in the closet, then took another step closer to me. "So..."

"Did you really have sex with Liz?" I asked.

"Did you really have a Swiss girlfriend?" he asked. His face didn't give away a thing. "No, Swedish," he corrected himself.

"I asked you first," I said, and he narrowed his eyes. Sometimes Kyle looked a lot like his dad, too-- I could almost see him catching on to me.

"Did you have a Swedish _boyfriend_?"

"So then you _didn't_ sleep with her."

"Look, I'm trying to be a gentleman." He sighed and sat down on the bed, then flopped down on his back and stared up at the ceiling. "If you want to know what happened, you gotta ask Liz, man."

"Then you didn't," I said, and pulled off my jacket, leaving it on the dresser before I crawled onto the bed. He looked up at me, and I touched his face, making him twitch. He was blushing. "You're nervous."

"Maybe," he said, and touched my lips curiously. His fingers traced where he'd kissed me, trailing sensation like fire.

I leaned back a bit on one elbow, pressing my lips together, and looked at him. Who knew, maybe Michael had really been on to something with the Vegas aliases he'd handed out. Because I didn't feel like Alex Charles Whitman, geek and proud of it. Not here in this strange room, in my tailored shirt and slacks, reclining next to this beautiful stranger. And Kyle didn't seem like the Kyle Valenti that I knew. I knew that boy from a distance. I knew him as a blue and yellow blur at a wrestling match or a football game. I knew him from Liz, telling Maria stories about watching him puke after a beer blast, or how he obsessively lined up his sports trophies.

The boy lying across from me, with his shirt rumpled and untucked, his tie loosened, his hair slicked back away from his face, was strangely beautiful. The sharp angle of his chin was an obvious challenge, and his earring glinted like a beacon. He arched an eyebrow at me. "You going to do something, or you just gonna look?"

I blinked at him, at the semi-nervous strain in his voice. Kyle wanted _me_ to take the lead? I wasn't the experienced one here. I mean, even if he hadn't slept with Liz, there were always girls that hung around him and his friends. I'd just assumed that he'd already...

I'd just assumed.

Well, damn.

"Yeah. I'm going to do something," I said, and grabbed his tie, hauling him close. I kept my hands above the waist as we kissed, not wanting to freak him out. But then he shifted, pushing me over on my back, throwing his knee over my thighs, and I was pinned to the bed by a hundred and sixty pounds of varsity Greco-Roman wrestler. And he was hard. "God, Kyle."

"What," he said nervously, moving back just as quickly. "I'm too heavy, I...?"

"No, you're fine." I pulled him back, and he settled over me, eyes wide. I kissed him again, clumsily trying to get his tie off, but only succeeded in impossibly tightening the knot. After a second, Kyle laughed, pulled away, and just yanked the whole thing over his head like a noose, tossing it behind him on the floor.

"Better?" he said, grinning.

"Better." I said.

Kissing Kyle was nothing like kissing Isabel. With her it had always seemed forced, like both of us were putting too much effort into it. A layer of lipstick and gloss kept me from tasting her skin, and you just didn't put your hands _anywhere_ she hadn't explicitly asked for them to be.

But I could taste Kyle now. Bittersweet rum and coke that I might actually be starting to like, and just Kyle, the hot breaths we were sharing. He was touching my chest, tentatively at first, and then he started to unbutton my shirt. I let him get three undone before I stopped his hand.

"How far did you really ever get with Liz?" I asked, breathless.

He shook his head in annoyance, staring over my shoulder, then stared straight into my eyes. "All right. Second base," he said sharply. "But that stays in this room, understand?"

"Got it," I said, feeling oddly pleased, half protective of Liz and half relieved that I didn't have to be jealous. I let him tug my shirt out of my pants and unbutton it the rest of the way, feeling exhiliarated, freaked out and slutty, but in a good way. Not too slutty, though; I let him unbutton it, but kept the shirt on.

Small, individually curved spikes of hair fell messily over Kyle's forehead as he ran his hands lightly over my belly, making me twitch. My cock hardened even more, as if it had just now twigged to what was going on and was making up for lost time. Needing to touch him, to get as much of my skin against his as possible, I fumbled at the buttons of Kyle's shirt, pushing his hands away with a soft, frustrated noise when he tried to help me.

Finally I got his shirt unbuttoned too. He was gorgeous, golden, a healthy tan setting off his muscles. He even had a softly defined six-pack, which I, well, didn't. I ran a hand over it daringly, and he laughed breathlessly, nuzzling my throat. "Okay, your turn." he said, pulling back. "This the kind of thing you did with Lars?"

"What?" I looked up into his glittering eyes. "Lars who?"

"You know. Your Swedish dream date."

I opened and closed my mouth. "Well, I was only gone for a month, you know. I learned to snowboard, I had to cook lutefisk and sing a whole book full of traditional songs, and then there was the whole language barrier, so my schedule was really..."

"So you didn't actually _do_ anything."

"Did I mention I snowboarded?"

"You know what I mean."

"No, we didn't do anything," I admitted. "I mean, besides this. This kind of thing." I moved my hand to his waist daringly. "Touching."

"Touching's good," he said. "Lao-Tse said 'You should allow everything to run its course without check or restriction. Let the ear hear what it likes, let the eye see what it likes, let the body enjoy what it likes and let the mind think what it likes.'"

"That's beautiful."

"Yeah?"

"We're still not going past second base," I said, and pushed him back down, licking under his jaw.

"On a first date? What, do you think I'm easy?" he joked, but I noted a fair amount of relief in his laughter.

Maybe it was a stupid and arbitrary thing to say. Maybe we were just being cowards.

Maybe we didn't exactly stick to the rule.

Anyway, I'm not telling. It was our first time, my first time with Kyle, my first time for a lot of things. I'm not a prude, although there are still some topics Maria and Liz can discuss that'll send me out of the room with my hands over my ears. It's just that some things should be private, I think.

We kissed, and touched each other, and talked, resting our heads on the same pillow. And I found out a lot of things about Kyle that night. I learned that he has a scar on the inside of his upper left arm. It's barely visible now, but you can see that it must have been ugly once. He scraped it up pretty good, a deep gash, trying to keep from falling off his roof. He fell anyway, wrapped his arm in a towel and waited for his dad to get home-- waited outside on the porch, because he was the kind of kid who was always getting into scrapes. He already knew that blood just didn't come out of carpet easily, if at all. He'd been trying to get a football off the roof. He was eleven.

I showed him the scar from where I'd gotten my appendix taken out, and told him about Liz asking if she could keep it, after the operation. I'd given it to her-- hell, _I_ didn't want it.

He told me about winning the statewide sharpshooting championship, about how after he came back to Roswell he went out with his buddies and got drunk, and shot up a couple of highway signs. The only time he'd ever done something like that. The shooting, of course, not the drinking. He'd been hoping for something, he didn't know what. Some reaction from his dad that he hadn't gotten yet.

I learned that I could get that look off his face by licking his ear, and I told him about the first three songs I'd learned to play on the guitar. First was 'We Shall Overcome,' because my hippie uncle was my first teacher, and he said everyone with a guitar should know it. Then 'Layla,' because he said it was a good song to pick up girls with. And lastly 'Margaritaville,' because I was in junior high and had the vague idea that Jimmy Buffet was hip.

I learned that Kyle had, in fact, memorized that particular Lao-Tse quote expressly to use as a pickup line. And he found out what I looked like when I was sleeping, when I drowsed off on his arm sometime around five in the morning. I don't think either of us ever really fell too deeply asleep, but we both drifted off occasionally. With the shades pulled closed and and no lights except the lamp over the bed, time seemed to stop.

Every now and then I would come half-awake and realize: Kyle Valenti's face is pressed into my back, that's his arm around me. That's Roswell High's star quarterback, his breath on my ear.

After what seemed like years, an eternity, the phone rang.

Kyle started against me, clutching me for a moment. "Jesus!"

I stretched to pick up the receiver and dropped it back down into the cradle again with a jangle. "No, a nine-thirty wake-up call."

"Oh," he said, and he relaxed a little. "Why?"

"We're all meeting for breakfast in half an hour, remember?" I said, and rolled off the bed, crossing over to the window. Kyle threw a defensive arm over his face as I pulled the curtains open, letting sunlight spill into the room. "You want first dibs on the shower?"

"Ugh," he mumbled. "Go on."

By the time I got out of the shower, he was dressed. I came up behind Kyle as he straightened his tie in the mirror above the dresser, then set about trying to comb his hair back with his hands.

"So what are we going to tell them?" he asked, turning to face me. I didn't quite know what to say. He just smirked. "Hey, if there's one thing I've learned from my dad, it's that the first thing you do is get your damn story straight."

I shrugged, looking past him into the mirror. "We tell them as much of the truth as possible," I said. There was a hickey low on my throat, and my mouth was a little redder than usual. I remembered the time Isabel had dragged me into the eraser room for a makeout session, kiss after desperate kiss. I'd been the one to pull away, and she'd looked down at me, hardly mussed. Lifting a hand, she'd brushed it quickly over my face, and I couldn't taste her lipstick any more. Handy trick.

I looked at Kyle again, at the way his lips thinned as he tried again to fix the knot of his tie. "So we walked around, then," he said flatly. "Decided to gamble here, since I'm a marked man at the Bali Hai. We can even tell them we got a room if you want. Picked up some blondes and partied in the hot tub."

I didn't say anything, and he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, burying his face in my shoulder, nuzzling the fabric of my shirt. I frowned, trying to keep my balance as I knotted my tie.

"Okay, maybe not... Look, I know Liz and Maria and everyone are great at keeping their lips zipped when it comes to our favorite Martians," he said, turning his head so that his mouth moved against the skin of my neck, "but jesus, Alex. Look at what happened to Max and Michael's solo trip to Vegas, and then tell me who can keep a secret."

"I know," I said, because I felt like I had to say something.

He let go of me, moving towards the door, and I grabbed my jacket out of the closet and followed him out of the room, watching the way he moved down the hall like he owned the place. The door clicked shut behind me before I could turn back for one long, last look, or even realize that I wanted to.

I closed my eyes, my hand lingering on the doorhandle for a moment, and then shrugged into my jacket and followed Kyle.

"You should come over Monday night." he said as we rode down in the elevator, and I glanced at him, startled. "My dad always works late." he explained.

"Yeah?"

"Well, Tess might be around," he shrugged, hands in his pockets, then glanced up. "But we could go for a drive. Or something."

The elevator doors slid open before I could reply, and the noise from the casino floor hit us like a wall. With a last glance at Kyle, I walked out into the world again.

* * *

In the lunchroom at Roswell High, I shifted, pinned by Kyle's intense gaze. "Totally worth it," I agreed, hoping my voice didn't sound too rough. "Best Vegas weekend ever."

"And there you go." Kyle grinned at something over my left shoulder, not specifically me. I looked down at my tray, biting my bottom lip to keep from grinning like a moron.

"So wait a minute," Liz said suspiciously, and I froze, but she only glanced curiously at Tess, and then Kyle. "You were only grounded for one week, and Kyle got two? How come?"

They both flinched, exchanging hangdog glances. "That's a very good question, Liz," Kyle said with a completely fake smile. "Glad you asked. And the answer is: I should know better."

"That's gotta hurt," I said sympathetically.

Kyle flashed me a lightning-fast grin. "But I got to keep the money."

"What? No. You are a _liar!"_ Maria protested. "There's no way your dad let you keep money you got from underage gambling!"

"Well... not all of it." Kyle admitted. "He did make me pay for his plane ticket to Vegas. I mean, last minute and everything. Wasn't cheap."

"And then the rental car..." Tess added, shrugging.

"Plus our three tickets back to Roswell." Kyle sighed.

"How much was left over?" Michael asked, taking a swig from his milk carton.

Kyle mumbled something.

Liz squinted at him suspiciously. "_How_ much?"

"I owe him forty-three bucks." Kyle said flatly. Tess snickered. He glared at her, but she was the only one not outright laughing. "Oh, everybody shut up. It was _still_ worth it," Kyle muttered.

I shifted, putting my hand over my mouth to hide my smile, then sat up straight in my seat as a sneaker-clad foot slid next to my own, then retreated. I looked across the table at Kyle, startled, and he looked at me, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards slightly. And I remembered.

It was Monday.

I was grounded, he was grounded, there was no way it was going to happen. But I still had a faint bruise on my throat, a mark that hadn't vanished, that couldn't be made to disappear. It was Monday, and I hadn't washed that rust-red shirt yet. The fabric still smelled of my own sweat, the Bali Hai's complimentary cologne, and Kyle. Kyle, who'd had days to think about it already, and who, strangely, miraculously enough, wasn't having second thoughts.

I kicked him under the table. "Oh, sorry."

"Watch it, Whitman," he mumbled, kicking me back lightly.

"Watch it yourself, Wallbanger," I said, and he looked up at me.

"It's Kyle," he said, "just Kyle." And it was Monday, and it was real.


End file.
